Parting Wisdom
by AnabelleG
Summary: In the midst of her own crisis, Caroline decides to tell a few people what's on her mind--beginning with Brennan and Booth.


**A/N: So, I'm watching another episode in my latest DVD marathon, when I see this shot of Caroline, full of her characteristic and endearing piss-and-vinegar attitude. The thought entered my head--what would it take to knock this woman down? Not in a sadistic way, mind you, but in complete admiration of her grit kind of way. I don't know if that makes any kind of sense, but that it the genesis of this story. I don't know how well it holds together--but as always I hope you find this interesting. -Ana**

She watched the doctor exiting the room with the herd of medical students trailing behind, and felt the hate blooming inside her. They cut off her breasts, pumped her body full of poisons. Told her that was no hope left. Not that it was their fault. But truth was, they were all pricks. Every single damn one of them with more starch in the white coats than sympathy in their eyes. And that's why she hated them.

Then another wave of nausea rolled in to smother the anger. She closed her eyes, knowing there were things you fought and things you just had to wait out. A hard lesson for someone like her, but this damn disease was one hell of a teacher.

When it finally passed, she forced herself to sit up, to stand beside her bed. There weren't going to be too many more days when she was able to do that; even now her legs were shaking like twigs in a storm. It annoyed her that she had to grab onto the I.V. pole for support. Dying didn't bother her so much. It was being so weak while going about the business of dying that pissed her off to no end.

She shuffle-footed her way to the bathroom, to the only mirror in the place. She'd never noticed before all this that hospital rooms never had mirrors. The way she figured it, someone scared of looking at sick people up and decided that sick people would be afraid to look at themselves too. Fools. Besides, there were visitors on their way and she wasn't going be looking anything but her best when they got there. She had her pride.

When she finally made it though, she had to concede that maybe the fools had a point after all. It wasn't the wig that bothered her. She'd been wearing those for more years than she had fingers or toes. Little curls, big curls. Straight, red or black. Hell, there was even a blonde one tucked back in her closet. No, it wasn't the wig. Or the penciled-in eyebrows, or the tracks of bruises on her arms. Those she could handle.

But she was so thin. That's what made the reflection blur. It was like she'd been whittled away. She'd loved her curves, was grateful for every ounce. In a world full of stick figures, it made her feel like something real, something solid. A force to be reckoned with. Never in her life had she wished to be anything different, never felt any shame. Her body carried her history. Etouffe spooned straight from the pan on her grandmama's stove. The sway of her hips that attracted the attention of a certain young man in law school. The baby girl she carried for nine months. Meals she shared with family and friends during good times and not so good times. Now she was one of those stick figures; her history was gone.

The tears were ready to fall when she heard the murmur of voices through the door. She shook her head and with a swipe of her hand against her eyes.

"No time for a pity party, _cherie_,"she told the reflection.

She listened to them talk while she gathered her strength for the first of the conversations on her list. There was no way to scare any sense into them if she looked like she'd been boo-hooing. All she had left were her words and she was going to put them to good use.

There was an ex-husband that needed to be forgiven and asked for forgiveness. A daughter that needed to be sent back to that school of hers with the kind of lessons that you couldn't get from a book or computer. Good friends that needed some guidance. If it was the last thing she did--and she knew it was going to be the last thing she did--she was going to be sure that she said what was on her mind. Starting with the two blind ninnies in the next room.

She walked out to greet them, enough steel left in her spine that neither one dared to give her "that look". There was some talk about a case, the weather--things that no longer mattered a tinker's damn to her. But she let them go on until she was situated back in her bed, the pillow easing the ache in her spine. Then she crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes and waited for them to shut up. When they did, she let loose.

"For a smart woman, you're thick as brick about what's important," she said to the first one.

"And you mister brave-hero, you need to stop hiding behind all the duty and honor mess and make a choice," she said to the second.

She saw them exchange that look between them, just like they always did, and wondered who would be the one brave enough to talk back to her. It didn't take long.

"Feeling puckish again?"

"Do you see any mistletoe hanging around?" she asked, giving her voice free rein to the irritation. But as quickly as it was there, it was gone. Closing her eyes, she leaned back and felt them waiting, silent.

"No, _cher_. Not puckish at all," she said. Then she open her eyes and told them what they needed to hear. She told them the truth.

xxxx

The services had been more than she could stand, but here, this she loved. A dark little room, filled with her folk. There was jazz playing somewhere with just the right mix of zydeco thrown in every so often. Stories were told with a few tears and even more laughter. She was there saying good-bye to the people saying good-bye to her, to make sure they were going to be alright. She saw her friends, watched her husband, her daughter, and in every face she saw the strength through the grief, knew that they had heard all that she had to say.

And in the very last moment, just before she left for good, she saw the two of them in the corner, hands entertwined, leaning into each other the way that two people can only when there are no secrets between them.


End file.
